


Just A Taste

by cordeliadelayne



Series: Nothing But Kisses [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, slow on the uptake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Clint and Coulson had to kiss, and one time they didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-Avengers. Clint's pov.

**One**

Clint fidgeted and started pulling at his jacket. He was a sniper, he hated having to go undercover. And he especially hated having to dress up in suits and leave his bow behind.

He was vaguely aware of the activity going on around him – agents checking their trackers, their weapons, going over the extraction plan – but he didn’t pay any attention until he heard the words “problem” and “Coulson.”

“What's going on?” he asked Sitwell, who was nominally in charge for this mission.

“Spinoza's out. She failed the medical.”

Clint frowned. He liked Agent Spinoza, she was smart and quietly competent and let him get away with at least a dozen smartass remarks before she told him to shut up.

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sitwell said, distractedly looking down at his phone. “Carrying some extra weight, that's all.”

There was a stunned silence as all the agents in the room stopped what they were doing.

“That's Jasper's way of announcing Agent Spinoza's pregnancy,” Coulson said from the doorway. An audible sigh encased the room and then everyone went back to work.

“What did I say?” Jasper asked, genuinely perplexed.

Coulson walked over to him and shook his head. “How you have a girlfriend...”

He took the phone from Jasper's hand while Jasper started to wax lyrical about his girlfriend.

Clint listened without really taking anything in. He'd been struck dumb by Coulson in a more tightly fitting suit than his usual fare, and looking every bit the rich businessman.

“What's -” Clint coughed and cleared his throat. “What's the plan?”

“I'll be taking Agent Spinoza's place,” Coulson said.

“As my...Okay. Great.”

Jasper and Coulson both looked at him and then went back to their conversation. Clint gathered they were waiting for their guest list passes to go through before they headed out. Which was fine by him. He needed a moment to compose himself.

They were supposed to be infiltrating a charity ball in honour of saving whales or dolphins or something fish-like hosted by a man their Intel said was using his millions to fund experiments trying to replicate the super-solder serum. He and Spinoza were to pose as a couple and plant bugs in Wilson's office and gather as much Intel on the other guests as they could.

“So, how are we doing this?” Clint asked. He sidled up next to Jasper and looked at the information he was reading.

“Same as before,” Jasper said. “Too late to change now. Coulson's up to speed.”

He moved off to talk to their back-up team, leaving Clint alone with Coulson.

“Same as before?” Clint asked.

Coulson smoothed down his jacket. “I realise I'm no Agent Spinoza...”

“No, no,” Clint said, interrupting and then trying to think of something else to say. “You – it's...”

Coulson's sardonic stare had the same effect as it usually did and Clint blinked back to the reasonable adult he pretended to be on a daily basis.

“We'll make a great couple.”

Coulson snorted softly. “Same story as before. We go in, mingle and then slip away to the bedrooms to...enjoy ourselves.”

Clint grinned. “What could go wrong?”

* * * * *

As it happened, plenty could and did go wrong.

Firstly their backup was taken out five minutes after their arrival. Sitwell would ordinarily have called the mission off – but then new Intel came in that the bad guys were further into their experiments than SHIELD had suspected and thus they had no choice but to proceed.

“We've been compromised,” Clint said, shifting close to Coulson.

“I'm aware,” Coulson replied.

“Okay,” Clint said. He pressed himself even closer to Coulson as they moved towards the bar, trying to think strictly professional thoughts. “So we're living dangerously, then?”

“Don't we always?” Coulson replied.

He steered Clint to the far end of the bar and ordered them both a scotch. “Any sign of the target?”

“Two o'clock.”

Coulson made a show of handing Clint his drink and surveyed the room. “Got him.”

“Next part of the plan?”

Coulson nodded. “Sitwell, we got eyes on the exits?”

“Doing it myself,” Sitwell replied.

“O-kay,” Clint said, raising a surprised eyebrow at Coulson. “Just how much trouble are we in?”

“Fury's made it Priority One,” Sitwell said. “Bugs aren't going to do it. He thinks the formula for the serum is on site.”

“Shit,” Clint said. “Time to up our game?”

“Looks like,” Coulson agreed. He started to laugh and pulled Clint close to him. “Bedroom, now!”

Clint ran his hands up Coulson's arms, all the while telling himself to keep it together. They had a mission to complete, and thinking about Coulson in any way but as his boss was not a good idea. It still didn't stop him flirting a little, because that was just like breathing, but at least he told himself to reign it in every now and again.

“I thought you'd never ask,” he said with a grin; exaggerating was fine for effect he told himself, the guests needed to see two madly in lust people, and that's what they were going to get.

They continued pawing at each other until they got to the backstairs and then took them up two at a time.

“First on the left,” Coulson instructed as Clint moved in front of him.

“Locked,” Clint said as he tried the door. “Keypad. Do you -?”

Coulson put the digital unlocking device into his hand before he'd even finished asking for it. That definitely wasn't a turn on. Nope.

“How long?” Coulson asked.

“Five seconds.”

The door unlocker flashed green and Clint tentatively pushed it open.

“Any other traps we need to worry about, sir?”

Coulson moved to Clint's side. “We've got company.” He leaned around Clint to remove the locking device and pulled the door shut again.

Clint stood up, about to ask what the plan was when he found himself pushed up against the wall next to the door. An almost imperceptible nod of permission was all he was able to give before Coulson was kissing him, plastering his body against Clint's.

Clint couldn't help the groan from escaping as Coulson melted against him, his hands pressing into his arms – he'd definitely have bruises later. He couldn’t move much, but he gave as good as he got, kissing Coulson back like his life depended on it.

He lost himself in the kiss, but Coulson thankfully didn’t, pulling away as the guests who'd interrupted their break-in disappeared back downstairs.

“Time to move,” Coulson said.

“Right,” Clint said. He tried not to make too much of the fact that Coulson seemed completely unruffled. “After you.”

* * * * *

They found the serum formula, made copies, and managed to get out without any loss of life. Later SHIELD would substitute another formula for the real one, but that was going to be another team's job, another team's headache.

Sitwell made a crass joke about getting into Coulson's pants but other than that no one said a word about their kiss, least of all Coulson who glossed over it in the debrief like it had been of no consequence whatsoever.

Which Clint supposed was true.

**Two**

Clint rolled over in the bed and flinched as the sunlight streaming through his open curtains hit his eyes. Why hadn't he closed the curtains last night?

A hand snaked its way around his waist. A very feminine hand. _Oh, yeah._

Clint twisted around to face his visitor.

“Hello, sailor,” she whispered, then giggled as she tried to plant a kiss on Clint's lips, which he deftly avoided.

Last night came back to him in a flash. A bunch of thugs and a damsel in distress that he rescued and offered a bed for the night. Except sex was definitely not what he'd had in mind. Gorgeous as she might be, she was still a victim of a crime and he'd never take advantage of that.

“You don't want?” she asked, stretching out like a cat.

“I have a boyfriend,” Clint said, surprising himself.

“Oh.” The woman pouted, but Clint didn't think she was really all that upset.

“Breakfast? I make a mean blueberry pancake.”

“That would be lovely.”

She got up and put her t-shirt back on. Clint found himself grateful that she'd kept her underwear on.

He also wasn't quite sure how she’d managed to get into his bed without waking him when he was sure he'd left her on the couch. (He distinctly remembered offering her the bed, and her refusing). But those questions could wait until he had some coffee inside him.

“Bathroom?” the woman asked. Clint pointed in the right direction before remembering that he still didn't know her name.

He was about to call out and ask for it when there was a knock at the door. He padded over to it, still bare foot and bare chested and was surprised to find Coulson standing there.

“Is this him?” the woman asked. She was standing by the open window to the fire escape now, fully dressed. Clint realised he was blocking Coulson's view of her and maybe because he hadn't had any caffeine yet, or maybe because there was something in her tone that sounded faintly mocking, but before Coulson could say a word Clint pressed forward and kissed him, his hands coming around Coulson's neck to draw him close. Coulson didn't protest, but he didn't exactly give an enthusiastic response either.

When Clint took a step back and turned around, the woman was gone.

“I presume that was a life-saving effort on your part?” Coulson asked.

Clint opened his mouth and then closed it. Coulson sighed and laid a file down on Clint's kitchen counter and flicked it open.

“Oh,” Clint said. “Yeah?”

Coulson shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. Clint took a step closer to the folder, though he didn't need to. He could already perfectly make out the photo of the women he'd woken up in bed with.

“So,” Coulson asked as he waited for his phone call to connect, “are you going to tell the Director you spent the night with the Black Widow, or shall I?”  
  
**Three**

“Why don't you just ask him out for a date?” Natasha asked.

Clint considered pretending to have no idea what she was talking about, but dismissed it as not being worth the effort.

“He has a girlfriend...”

“Says who?”

“Sitwell.”

“Sitwell gossips too much.”

“He's never wrong though, is he?”

Natasha shrugged. “I don't pay attention to gossip.”

Clint took a breath to centre himself and then let his arrows fly. He didn't need to check to know they'd hit the centre dead on.

Natasha fired her gun without taking her eyes off Clint. Clint watched with a frown as she splintered his arrows with her bullets.

“Very impressive,” Coulson said. They'd both known when he'd come in to the range, which was thankfully after they'd finished talking about him.

“Want to make it interesting?” Natasha asked.

Clint didn't like the sound of that, but apparently Coulson had some time to kill today.

“What did you have in mind?” Coulson asked.

“Best of three,” Natasha said. “Loser has to pay a forfeit.”

“And the forfeit?”

“Loser has to kiss the winner.”

Coulson moved forward and took the gun Natasha handed him.

“And why exactly do you want me to kiss Clint?”

“What makes you think -?”

“I have no allusions about my shooting skills,” Coulson said. “You'd easily beat me, and no one alive can match Clint's accuracy. So, I ask again, why do you want me to kiss Clint?”

“Scientific curiosity,” Natasha said.

Coulson put the gun down.

“We have a mission,” he said. “Briefing in Hill's office. Ten minutes.”

Clint, who hadn't been able to stop the rabbit caught in the headlights expression from flittering across his face, started to relax. Which in hindsight was a mistake. Because just before Coulson walked away he pressed a soft kiss to Clint's cheek.

“Don't be late,” he whispered into Clint's ear and it was only all his years of training that kept Clint from shuddering as the warm breath ghosted against his neck.

“I hate you,” he told Natasha as soon as he was sure Coulson was out of ear shot.

Natasha gave him a pitying look. “There is no way Coulson would kiss you outside of a mission if he was seeing someone.”

Clint took a moment to think about this.

“Huh.”

**Four**

“Does anyone have the target?” Coulson asked over the comm. He sounded pissed and Clint couldn't blame him; this mission had gone to hell even faster than normal.

“No sign here,” Clint said. He was scanning the area around his perch but so far their target had outmanoeuvred them. He was supposed to be a low level smuggler but clearly he had a whole other skill set they hadn't known about.

“No sign at my location,” Natasha said. She was down on the ground, armed with the tracker she was supposed to drop into the targets drink when he met their fake weapons smuggler. Only neither of them had turned up at the meeting point, and shit had most definitely hit the fan.

“Permission to move?” Clint asked, even as he was shifting down the fire escape.

“Meet me at the back door,” Coulson said.

“Sir?” Natasha asked “Is that wise?”

Clint frowned. It wasn't like Natasha to speak up on a public channel.

“He's not here, Tash,” Coulson said. “I'll be fine.”

Clint concentrated on jumping from one fire escape to another – because god forbid they should actually reach the ground - and flipped onto the top of a dumpster just as Coulson came around the corner.

“What's going on?” Clint asked.

“It's not important,” Coulson started to say but Natasha started speaking over him.

“The target has a grudge against Coulson. If he sees Coulson...”

“He's not here so he's not going to see me, _Agent Romanov,_ ” Coulson said, a little harshly.

Clint jumped down from the dumpster and landed directly in front of Coulson.

“Target's on my six,” he said, before pushing a startled Coulson up against the wall and kissing him fiercely.

Coulson quickly got with the program, his hands finding Clint's hips and twisting their position so the target couldn't see Coulson's face.

“I'm two minutes out,” Natasha said. She didn't sound breathless but Clint knew she'd be running at full pelt.

Coulson moved his mouth away from Clint's, but kept his face pressed into Clint's shoulder. Clint tried not to think about how much he liked it there, how perfectly they fit together, and instead tried to get his head back into the game.

“We could take him out,” Clint whispered.

“SHIELD needs him alive.”

“On it,” Natasha said.

Coulson and Clint turned to see Natasha calling out to the target, pretending to be a lost tourist.

“Coulson, it's Blake. Our guy's dead.”

“What?”

“Had his throat cut. That's why he didn’t make the meet.”

“Dammit,” Coulson muttered and Clint shivered. They were still standing close together, Coulson's hand still pressed against Clint's hip. “All right, I'm calling it. Nat, take him down.”

“With pleasure,” Natasha replied. Clint couldn't help but smile as she knocked the target unconscious with a perfectly timed kick to the throat.

“Could have been worse,” Clint said.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Coulson asked, and it was definitely his “off-the-clock you can call me Phil," voice.

“I'll go help Nat,” Clint said, in lieu of answering, and promptly moved off in that direction.

Coulson didn't try to stop him.

**Five**

“Well, this all seems horribly familiar," Clint said. He adjusted his jacket and smoothed down his shirt. He still didn't like getting dressed up. And he especially didn't like getting dressed up when it meant having to go undercover.

“I'm sorry you ended up with me again,” Coulson said. He was standing behind Clint and adjusting his tie, looking into Clint's eyes through the mirror in front of them.

“Can't be helped,” Clint said, and winced as he realised how that sounded.

“If we could have delayed this mission until Natasha's fracture healed...”

“No, I didn't...I like working with you, you know that.”

“Do you?” Coulson asked, managing to sound both serious and surprised at the same time.

“Of course I do. I...”

“You two love birds ready?” Sitwell asked as he poked his head into the room.

Clint glared at him and Sitwell raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Chill, Barton, you're supposed to be newly-weds, not serial killers. Wheels up in five.”

Coulson nodded and then turned back to Clint. For a moment it looked like he was going to say something but instead he just moved towards the door.

Clint didn't try to stop him.

* * * * *

The thing was, Clint was kinda hopeless where relationship were involved. In fact the longest non-disastrous relationships he'd ever had were with Coulson and Natasha and neither of them involved sex. Which if he was honest with himself was a definite weakness. He'd lost count of the men and women he'd kept seeing only because the sex was good.

The point is, he didn’t want to mess things up with Coulson but he was self-aware enough to know that when getting to kiss Coulson became the highlight of his week, things were definitely not okay. Not to mention that Natasha had threatened to break all of his fingers if he didn't do something soon.

“Penny for them?” Sitwell asked. He sat down unbidden in the seat next to Clint. Their SHIELD transport would drop them off on the private island where they were to meet with an AIM scientist in less than ten minutes. Clint had spent the last thirty failing to find a way to ask Coulson out for dinner that didn’t seem sad or desperate.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Clint said. _Not with you._

“You want to hear something funny?” Sitwell asked. Clint sighed. Sitwell never knew when to shut up. “I had a look at Romanov's x-rays. There was no fracture. She could have come on this mission after all but Coulson took her place. Interesting, isn't it?”

Clint turned to look at Sitwell, not bothering to keep the surprise off his face.

“She's fine?”

“I presume. She's not at her apartment.”

“Why were you looking into Agent Romanov's movements in the first place?” Coulson asked. Clint had been so distracted he hadn't heard him approach.

“Just doing my due diligence,” Sitwell said. “I was concerned. “

“Romanov's on a mission for Director Fury. And that's all you need to know.”

Sitwell shrugged, as if being kept in the dark didn't bother him; both Clint and Coulson knew better.

“I wanted to go over same last minute details with Barton.”

“Sure, sure. You do that,” Sitwell said. He moved off to the front of the plane.

Coulson didn't relax until Sitwell was out of sight and then he sat down heavily in the chair next to Clint.

“I didn’t have time to tell you earlier,” Coulson began to explain. “If...”

“Let's just go over our legends,” Clint said.

Coulson's faced dropped. “ _Clint._ ”

“I don't want to talk about anything other than the mission, is that clear, Agent Coulson?”

Coulson sat forward. “All right. My name is David Swift...”

* * * * *

Just when Clint thought the mission was going to go off without a hitch, an explosion rocked the room and he and Coulson were being thrown through a window. They'd each had far too much experience for that to phase them, twisting their bodies so the landing did the least amount of damage and reaching for their weapons.

“Was that us?” Clint asked as he turned towards Coulson.

“I don't think so,” Coulson replied, voice hoarse, as if he'd been screaming.

Clint frowned and edged towards him. Clint had glass cuts everywhere and his back was going to be a delightful shade of purple in the morning but he didn't think anyway was broken.

“Hey, Boss, you okay?”

Coulson's hand twitched as if he was about to wave, but he didn't otherwise respond. Clint's veins turned to ice.

“Coulson? Coulson, what the...” He stopped talking as he saw the problem, a large shard of glass sticking in Coulson's side. “Oh, hell. Can anyone hear me? Sitwell? Coulson's down! Repeat, I have an agent down.”

Coulson opened his eyes. “Not dead yet,” he murmured, though speaking obviously hurt.

“Just don't move,” Clint said, trying not to panic. “Just stay awake. Please, just stay awake.”

But Coulson didn't seem to hear him, his eyes falling shut and staying like that.

“Not the right kind of kissing, asshole,” Clint muttered and then took a deep breath, fitted his mouth to Coulson's and tried to buy Coulson a little more time.

* * * *

Coulson was still in a medically induced coma – three days and counting – when Natasha showed up in his hospital room. Clint was curled up in a chair next to the bed, his whole body throbbing painfully.

“He'll be fine,” she told him.

“I thought you didn't do platitudes,” Clint replied, untwisting himself.

“You need a shower,” Natasha replied.

Clint looked pointedly at Coulson. “I'm not leaving him alone.”

“Go clean yourself up, Barton.”

Clint stared in surprise as Nick Fury himself pulled up a chair and sat down next to Coulson's bed.

“Did I stutter, agent?”

Clint stood up and, bracing himself for some sort of reaction, pressed a quick kiss to Coulson's forehead before he left the room. Fury snorted and Natasha rolled her eyes, but otherwise nothing happened.

* * * * *

Coulson woke up while Clint was in the shower. Because, of course.

**One**

In hindsight, picking the day Coulson returned to work as the night of their first official date was a definite mistake. Clearly they'd both underestimated how much Coulson's normal working day took out of him when he was pushing himself 110%.

When Coulson showed up at Clint's apartment he looked like all it would take was a gentle breeze to knock him down on his ass.

“I'm sorry,” Coulson said, for the third time.

“Phil, it's fine. We can go out another night.”

Coulson nodded and it looked like he was actually going to try and leave.

“No, come on,” Clint said, “you're staying here tonight.” The fact that Coulson didn't even offer up a token protest spoke volumes.

Clint got Coulson settled in his bed, underwear on but everything else off. He decided he could analyse the way his heart fluttered at the sight of Coulson in his bed some other time.

He moved over to turn the light off and then started to leave the room, sure that Coulson was about to fall asleep at any moment.

“Stay,” Coulson said, voice stronger than Clint would have given him credit for.

“The couch is comfy.”

“Natasha says otherwise,” Coulson replied. He lifted his head from the pillow and stared directly at Clint. “Please?”

There was no way Clint could resist that. “Okay.” He started undressing and then slipped under the covers next to Coulson.

Coulson smiled his rare real smile that made his eyes shine and Clint's heart beat impossibly fast.

“Go to sleep,” Clint whispered. Coulson nodded and shifted forward a little so his head was resting against Clint's shoulder. Clint put his arm around Coulson and drew him even closer.

He felt Coulson go slack in his arms and then his breathing fall into a steady rhythm that matched his own.

Clint found himself relaxing and his own eyelids start to fall shut. Turns out, having Coulson in his bed was worth more than all their stolen kisses put together.

But he'd still be making sure that he woke Coulson with a kiss the next morning, and every morning after that.  



End file.
